


The Littlest Manservant

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: Merlin's six, Arthur's confused, and Morgana is trying to be helpful. Set directly after Prince Brat. You should read that before you read this.





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin eyed the bread and apple, stomach twisting with doubt and hunger until he couldn’t hold out for another second. He snatched the bread up first, small teeth tearing into the crust. Gaius smiled at him encouragingly, but Merlin’s stomach growled so loudly he didn’t really need any extra encouragement. He devoured the bread and then turned on the apple, happily gnawing on the core within minutes. 

“Feeling better?” Gaius asked. 

Merlin nodded. The apple had been quite delicious, and he could breathe easier now that the frightening prince was gone. The prince was even more terrifying up close. Merlin had caught sight of his large hands from under the bed and was quite sure that the man could snap him in two, bones cracking like dry wood. The less Merlin saw of _him_ , the better. 

“Merlin, I’ve known your mother for many years. She used to work here with me.” 

Merlin nodded again and wished he had another apple. 

“Your mother has told me about you. About how you’re not like the other children.” 

Merlin stopped chewing, going as still as a rabbit with a fox nearby. He didn’t even dare to breathe. His mother had told him he must not _ever_ reveal the things he could do. She said that people wouldn’t understand. That they would fear him and not like him anymore, and Merlin couldn’t think of a fate worse than that. 

“It’s all right, Merlin,” Gaius said softly. “You’re safe here with me. I would never let anything harm you.” 

Gaius looked at him with such openness, such patient kindness, that Merlin couldn’t help but trust him. He nodded and resumed eating. 

“But Merlin this is very important so listen to me closely. You must not use magic in Camelot. Not even for little things. I would never hurt you, but others might.” 

Merlin nodded knowingly. “It’s a secret. Like in Ealdor.” 

“Yes,” Gaius agreed. “Like that. But to keep you safe, you need to stay indoors for awhile.” 

Merlin didn’t mind that. He was already plotting the best strategy for his exploration, which would definitely include the books even though he didn’t really know his letters. He’d only ever seen one real book in his life, but it had been full of colorful pictures of flowers, and the pages had wonderfully intricate borders. He also needed to inspect the leech tank. There were leeches in the ponds outside of the village, but these were different. These might have been some kind of pet. 

As the morning progressed, Merlin realized he quite liked Gaius. There was something comforting about the old man. He had a strangely nice smell—something sharp and minty at once. It wafted around him as he moved from task to task, always alerting Merlin to his presence when he drifted close by. He was also remarkably patient with Merlin’s curious fingers, gently taking breakable things from his grasp and redirecting him towards safer corners. Except for the fact that Merlin missed his mother terribly, he would have been perfectly happy to remain there forever. 

The morning peace was destroyed by a large jar of something blue slipped from Merlin’s small fingers. He reacted without thought, stopping it just before it could shatter. He held it there, a half-inch from the ground, his body suddenly white hot and shaking. The magic coursed through him from an unknowable source, filling him like an empty pitcher. 

“Merlin!” 

The sharp sound whipped across the room, startling Merlin. His fragile concentration broke, and the magic erupted from him in a sudden wave. He could feel it happening. Time slowed as Merlin watched the wave of destruction that originated from him. He started weeping in apology, helpless to stop the inevitable. The tears moved slowly down his flushed cheeks, cold and itchy. He felt each and every one’s slow journey until one finally dropped off his jaw. It hit the ground in the same instant time regained its proper speed. Everything exploded around and away from Merlin. He heard every jar, every piece of glass as it hit the stone floor, every splinter of wood. Gaius’ horrified gasp. 

After the magic left him, it was replaced by unmitigated terror. Every muscle seized. He couldn’t feel his legs. He had just done something terribly, _dreadfully_ bad. Something that could get him in trouble. Worse, he had ruined his new friend’s nice house. He’d ruined _everything_. His mum would be disappointed. 

_And scared_ a small voice reminded Merlin. Scared because everybody would know who did this and they’d take him someplace bad. He was so sorry. Like the time a cow had started to chase him in the field and he’d burnt it to a crisp. The cow that provided the only milk for two of the families in Ealdor. Merlin had cried then, too—for the loss of the poor cow and for his friends who would be hungry. 

He didn’t want to get in trouble. His legs were moving before he consciously made his decision. He nearly slipped on some broken glass, and nearly tripped on the remains of Gaius’ chair. Somehow, he managed to stay up right. He heard Gaius calling after him, but his voice seemed very far away, and Merlin knew the old man wouldn’t be able to catch up with him. 

As he sprinted from the physician’s quarters, the jar he’d held suspended slammed into the ground. He heard it echoing behind him and forced his legs to move faster. 

The castle was huge and confusing. Merlin didn’t dare stop moving, taking random turns as he sprinted through the corridors. He just wanted to find a dark corner to hide himself until everybody forgot he’d ever been there. Maybe if he hid long enough, he’d be able to sneak out later and return to Ealdor. Somebody along the road could point him in the right direction. He just wanted to get home to his mother, where everything made sense and she never yelled at him if sometimes he lost his concentration. 

Finally, his muscles refused to work and he nearly fell down. He summoned what was left of his strength and crawled into an abbey. There was a heavy curtain, and he pulled it closed, trying the old trick of making himself as small as possible. He was crying again. He wanted to stop, but he was almost too exhausted to breathe. He gasped for breath and shuddered and hoped Gaius realized he really was sorry. 

#

“Gaius! What is it? Is it Merlin?” Arthur started before he even had the door all the way open. The sight that greeted him made his heart beat spike. It looked like the knights had gone through and destroyed everything. The destruction appeared to be complete, and Arthur’s only thought was to find the fragile child and make sure he was safe. 

“I’m sorry to call you from your practice, Arthur. But I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“It’s fine. What happened?” 

Gaius sighed and leaned heavily against a table that managed to remain standing. “I’m not sure. I stepped out of the room and…” 

“Gaius, was it Merlin?” Arthur asked softly. 

“Sire…” 

“Was it?” 

“Yes.” 

Arthur sighed and closed the door behind him. “What happened? Is Merlin hurt?” 

“Merlin’s a child now with a child’s control. The magic…got away from him.” Gaius gestured at the mess that had once been his home. “He ran before I could stop him.” 

“Ran where?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Arthur’s eyes widened. “He could be anywhere.” 

“Now you see why I felt I had no choice.” 

“Do you think…do you think he might…in front of everybody?” 

“This might have depleted his magic for some time. But…it’s hard to say at this age.” 

Arthur didn’t need any further clarification. There was only one choice—he needed to find Merlin before he got himself killed. Arthur knew from experience that Uther wouldn’t hesitate to execute him, even if he was only a child. Arthur’s heart lodged itself in his throat, perhaps permanently, and for a brief moment he truly believed he wouldn’t reach Merlin in time. He could track anything through the forest, but tracking a terrified child sorcerer through his own castle seemed an impossible task. Especially since he absolutely could not enlist the help of the guards. They were too rough, too frightening. If Merlin saw them bearing down on him, there was no telling what he might do in response. 

But the guards were the most obvious place to start. They had in fact noticed a peasant boy running from the physician’s quarters, but figured it was just some kid running an errand for Gaius, or maybe avoiding a dose of his foul medicine. The pointed towards the courtyard, but Arthur instinctively knew Merlin wouldn’t run right into the middle of so many people. He took a right through a narrow side corridor and he was rewarded for his hunch when another guard confirmed that a small child and raced by, heading towards the east wing. Arthur continued in that way, relying on what witnesses he could find combined with what he knew of Merlin. 

It led him to a dead end. 

Arthur stopped and spun in a low circle. It made sense to be there. Arthur hadn’t crossed paths with a servant after he crawled up the last set of stairs. It was quiet and there were plenty of dark spaces to hide. Arthur himself had found his way to that section of the castle once or twice when he didn’t want to be found. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, aiming for the same gentle tone he heard Gaius use. He missed by a wide margin, but it was still better than the gruff tone he usually took with the manservant. “Merlin, come out. I promise everything will be okay.” 

He walked down the hall slowly as he spoke, eyes darting from curtain to curtain. Finally, one moved. 

“Merlin, I know where you’re hiding. I’m going to open the curtain now.” 

“Please don’t,” Merlin said softly. “Please…sire.” 

“Why not?” Arthur asked. 

“You don’t have to tell anybody you found me if you don’t see me.” 

Arthur sighed as Merlin asked him to keep yet another secret. He was tempted to honor this request as well. “Merlin, I can’t do that. Gaius sent me to find you.” 

“What’s…what’s going to happen to me?”

_Oh Merlin, I don’t know._ “Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re not in trouble, Merlin. Gaius is just worried about you. He wants to make sure you’re not hurt.” 

“I’m not hurt. Tell him I’m not hurt.” 

“I think he would rather see you himself.” Arthur was close enough to touch Merlin’s shoulder through the curtain, but he didn’t want to find out what would happen if Merlin were startled. “He is very worried about you.” 

“I wrecked everything with my magic. Why would he even want to see me?” 

“No, Merlin, that’s not how it works. Your friends won’t stop being your friends just because you’re magic.” Arthur could barely believe the softly spoken words. He felt like they weren’t coming from him. They were coming from somebody behind him. They must have been. But he knew they were true. “Merlin?” 

“What?” 

“I’m going to move the curtain now.” 

“…okay.” 

Arthur pulled the curtain open and Merlin flinched away from the light—and possibly from Arthur himself. He was all elbows and knees and big round ears. He blinked up at Arthur, and he wasn’t crying at that moment, but he’d clearly spent most of the past hour devoted to that activity. Merlin swallowed as watched him, but he didn’t blink or look away. He held Arthur’s gaze with more courage than the prince expected. 

“Can you tell me what happened earlier?” Arthur asked. “Did you mean to make that mess?” 

“No!” Merlin protested, sitting up. “I was trying to _stop_ the mess. I accidentally dropped a jar and I just went to catch it like I always do. But then Gaius startled me and I just…lost control.” He looked down and murmured, “Sometimes that happens.” 

“Like you always do?” Arthur crouched in front of him, trying to prompt Merlin to look at him again. “Have you always had magic?” 

Merlin nodded. “Mum said since I was a babe.” 

“What do you do with it?” 

“Do?” 

“Yeah. Do you cause mischief?” 

“Oh no, never. I…well, I killed a cow once but it was an accident. It was chasing me and I was scared. But usually I just try to help my mum. When she needs to carry buckets or plant the garden. Last spring, I made things bud early.” 

“I see.” 

“I know it’s a secret. I know people think it’s wrong. Mum says it just means I’m special.” 

“Do you wish you wasn’t special?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin wiped his face with the back of his hand, and Arthur found himself wishing for kerchief. The one that otherwise never left Merlin’s throat would have been ideal. “No. Sometimes it helps people.” 

People like Arthur, and by extension, Arthur’s subjects. People like Gwen and Gwen’s father. Maybe even people like Uther. “Merlin, I’m going to take you back to Gaius now.”

Merlin had been relaxing, but the tension returned, and he retreated into himself. “No, please. I don’t want to go back there.” 

“Where do you want to go?”

“Home. Ealdor.” 

Taking Merlin back to Ealdor was obviously out of the question. But if he told Merlin that’s where they were going, he would give him an excuse to get out of the castle. They could wander around the forest for the day—somewhere far away from the castle and Uther and gossiping servants. They’d return the next day, everything back to normal, and nobody the wiser. As far as ideas went, Arthur felt this was right up with his most brilliant. 

“I’ll take you home,” Arthur said. 

Merlin peered up at him hopefully. “You will?” 

“Yes. I know that Gaius will miss you, but nobody wants to keep you here against your will. It’ll be nice to see Hunith again.” 

“You know my mum?” 

“I do. I like her very much.” 

Merlin smiled for the first time. It was big and toothy and pleased, like he’d been waiting all day to hear Arthur say that very thing. “How long will it take to get there?” 

“Oh, we should get there by tomorrow. Come on, we’ve got to prepare for our journey.” 

Merlin took a shaky breath and nodded. Arthur was tempted to take his hand and help him up, but he didn’t want to startle the boy. Instead he stepped back and let Merlin unfold his long limbs. Before they went anywhere, Arthur decided, they were going to eat. He hated to see how pinched the boy was. Arthur was sure there wasn’t an inch of fat on Merlin’s whole body. He was nothing but skin and bones and ears and long, stringy hair. For all of that, though, Arthur almost had to admit there was something oddly endearing about him. 

“We’ll go to my chambers first to get supplies. Stick right next to me. Don’t wander off.” 

“I won’t,” Merlin promised solemnly. And then he looked up at Arthur with the same expression he’d seen on Merlin’s face many, many times before—a combination of trust and awe like Arthur was already a great man. 

#

Arthur regretted going to Morgana for help about thirty seconds after Gwen admitted them into the Lady’s chambers. They had both recognized Merlin immediately, and Morgana had pulled him away from Arthur like she suspected _him_ of enscolling his servant. She followed her look up with a sharp, “What did you do to him?” 

“I didn’t do anything to him. It was a sorcerer.” 

Morgana stiffened. “What sorcerer?” 

“Not a very smart one, considering he somehow managed to do this from inside the dungeons. Not that there was any question of his guilt before, but now there’s really no room for doubt.” 

“He was already arrested for a different crime of sorcery.” 

Morgana narrowed her eyes at him and Arthur stared back, hoping she wouldn’t see the truth on his face. His hopes were in vain. He knew the second she put it all together—her eyes widened her and mouth shaped itself into an amused smirk. 

“You were enscolled, too, weren’t you?” 

“That’s not the issue right now.” 

“Oh my God, why didn’t you let me know?” 

“I was six, Morgana. I didn’t even know who you were.” 

“Is that how it works? So Merlin doesn’t remember us?” 

“No, he doesn’t know anything about Camelot. He didn’t even recognize Gaius.” _Or me_. Which had hurt a little bit. He hated to see Merlin so afraid of him. They’d reached a tentative peace, and Arthur didn’t think Merlin was going to run and hide from him again, but it was clear that Merlin was still wary. He stood back, near the door, his hands behind his back, his bright eyes darting around the room, absorbing every detail. 

Morgana’s face changed at that. Her smirk disappeared and she looked at Merlin with such a heavy sense of sympathy that even Arthur was a little affected. He remembered being a little disoriented and confused when he woke up the day before, but it hadn’t been upsetting. He was still in his own castle, and he’d even recognized the guards stationed in the hallway. His father had been the same, if a little older, and Arthur had no doubt that even if he couldn’t remember exactly what happened, he was still exactly where he belonged. He’d never been anywhere else. 

Morgana gracefully lowered herself to her knees and gestured for Merlin. The boy approached her with tentative steps, though showing none of the fear Arthur had expected. He thought Merlin was just a naturally shy boy—it’s not as though he’d pick up many social skills living out in the country. But maybe he wasn’t shy. Maybe he just didn’t want to be around Arthur. 

“Hello, Merlin. I’m Morgana. And this is my maid, Gwen.” 

Gwen curtsied at Merlin, prompting a small smile from him. “Hi.” 

“Are you a bit scared?” 

Merlin nodded. 

“I know how you feel. When I first came to Camelot, I was a little girl. Everything was so big and so strange. Is that how you feel?” 

“Yes.”

“But I know you’re a very brave boy. And I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Arthur frowned. Like he would let something happen to Merlin? He was willing to spend the next twenty-four hours protecting the strange little boy from himself. He was prepared to entertain Merlin and feed him and do whatever else was necessary. And not just because Merlin had done the same for him—that had been Merlin’s job, of course. 

However, Merlin apparently thought that was the best thing he’d ever heard. He flung his arms around Morgana’s neck, and Morgan returned the hug with clear enthusiasm. She wrapped her arms around his narrow waist and straightened, picking him up. He clung to her like he didn’t intend to let her go, his face buried in her neck. 

Arthur was not jealous. Not even a little bit. The last thing he wanted was some kid hanging off of him. Even if that kid was Merlin. In fact, the last thing he wanted was a hug from Merlin _ever_ , regardless of the circumstances. (Well, except for the night before, when it felt like there couldn’t be anything better). 

“Morgana, don’t do that.” 

Morgana turned to face Arthur. “Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t hug him like that. I mean, he’s going to remember everything tomorrow.” 

“So?” 

“So, he’s not some little commoner or peasant boy. He’s _Merlin_.” 

Merlin’s shoulders tensed at the sound of his own name and Morgana looked at Arthur with a disapproving frown. He hated that look. “And what? Merlin doesn’t deserve to be hugged? He’s clearly frightened, Arthur. I know you did something to him.” 

“I didn’t do _anything_ to him. I’m trying to help him. I’m just saying…he might be embarrassed tomorrow.” 

“Embarrassed? Over a little physical affection? You know, Arthur, most people don’t see that as a sign of weakness. For most people, hugging is quite normal. Well, most people who aren’t Pendragons.” 

“I didn’t bring him here so you could paw at him.” 

“Then why did you bring him here?” 

“I need your help. I promised him I would take him to visit his mother.” 

Morgana and Gwen both perked up at that. “You’re going to Ealdor? We’ll come with you.” 

Arthur had very firm rules about striking girls—he didn’t even if the girl was Morgana and even if she clearly deserved it. He instinctively wanted to pull Merlin from her grasp and inform her that she was _not_ invited. But if he did that, he would have to explain why. Also, she would accompany him no matter how much he protested. It was better for Merlin if she and Gwen were present. Arthur could recognize that, but a part of him—a large part—didn’t like it at all. 

Arthur didn’t even have the chance to protest before Merlin lifted his head and nodded enthusiastically. “I could introduce you to my mum and to Will and I could show you where I like to play. And my favorite sheep, Rodney. That isn’t really his name, that’s just what I like to call him.” 

“It sounds like fun.” 

Merlin _beamed_ at her. “Oh, it will be, my lady.” 

“Oh, and such manners. Your mother should be commended. Gwen, prepare our things. Include a few gifts for Hunith.” 

“Now wait a minute,” Arthur said. “This isn’t going to be a big trip. I planned to be back by tomorrow.” 

“But Ealdor is a day’s ride.” 

“Yes, it is,” Arthur said tightly, wondering how Morgana could be so smart and so dense at the same time. “But Merlin will be _fine_ tomorrow.” 

“I was just telling Gwen that it’s much too hot to stay cooped up in this castle. A nice ride will do us some good, and Ealdor is cooler than Camelot. You can return tomorrow, if you wish.” 

Morgana hadn’t said anything wrong. Her suggestion wasn’t inappropriate. She wasn’t a prisoner in the castle—she could come and go as she pleased, within reason. And it did make perfect sense for Merlin to feel comfortable with her. She had a kind heart that children and animals often found attractive—though why she could never show Arthur the same measure of kindness he never knew—and she’d hugged Merlin like she never wanted to let him go. And that absolutely _was not_ jealousy making his stomach tight or his fists clench. 

Maybe he was going mad. Maybe that was a side-effect of the enchantment. After twenty-four hours, it returned you to your normal age and size, but the cost was your sanity. How else could he explain away his disappointment? Or the strange undercurrent of anger? 

“Fine,” Arthur said with a thin smile. “I’ll see to the horses and speak to Gaius. Meet me at the stables.” 

Merlin didn’t even say goodbye as Arthur left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

There were so many things to look at as they rode out of Camelot that Merlin didn’t know where to start. He was curious about every tree and every hill and every large rock that broke up the monotony of the meadow they rode threw. He had an apple in one pocket and a piece of bread in the other, courtesy of Lady Morgana who insisted he take them in case he got hungry on the journey. He was hungry right then, but he didn’t want to wolf down the food too quickly. He liked the weight of it in his pocket. It was a nice reminder of Lady Morgana’s kindness. 

Her maid, Guinevere, kept him secure on the horse, one arm around his waist. There had been a small argument in the stable between the Lady and the Prince, and Merlin had literally been caught in the middle, standing between them as they exchanged heated words. He didn’t want them fighting over him. He tried to tell them as much, but Arthur mostly ignored his efforts at interruption, and Morgana shushed him and told him everything was fine. Finally, a compromise was reached, and Merlin was put on Gwen’s horse. A large, gentle beast with soft brown eyes. Merlin liked him quite a bit, and couldn’t resist petting the soft fur on its long neck. 

He’d never been on a horse before, but he wasn’t afraid. The ground was a long way down, and the horse’s hooves were large—large enough to smash him—but Merlin was quite content. Gwen held him like nothing on the earth could drag him from her grasp, and she was soft against his back. She smelled good, too. Like flowers and fire. He wasn’t sure where that hint of dry smoke came from, but it tickled at his nose and made him think cozy thoughts of sitting on the hearth in the winter. 

As much as Merlin’s attention darted around, it returned to Morgana again and again, like a bird returning to its roost. Morgana was special like him. Nobody had said that, of course. But Merlin knew she was keeping the same secret. Something old and strong lurked in her eyes and her magic called to him. She reminded him of the earth. At first glance, the ground was just the ground, dirt was just dirt. But if he buried his fingers in the dirt and he closed his eyes, he could feel so much power. The earth hid its magic and kept its secrets well, but Hunith had told him that like responded to like, and that’s what he felt when Morgana hugged him. 

Occasionally, when he felt brave enough, Merlin looked to Arthur, who rode several paces ahead of the two women. His spine was straight and his hair was golden and he looked like something that belonged in one of his mum’s stories. There was magic in Arthur as well, though Merlin didn’t know how to describe it. He’d never sensed anything like it. It was almost like a lightning storm, when sudden, brilliant bolts connected the heavens and the earth. Merlin didn’t think Arthur was aware of his magic, and that just made Merlin more uneasy. 

Arthur had ignored him almost entirely after bringing him to Morgana. That didn’t bother Merlin. Almost all adults except his mum ignored him, so he was used to that. Plus, every time the prince look at him, something in Merlin’s chest clenched and his instincts to make himself as small as possible kicked in. But Arthur _had_ been kind to him. He hadn’t even shouted at Merlin about the mess he made in Gaius’ room. (Poor Gaius. Merlin hoped that he would have help cleaning it up. It wouldn’t be very nice for him to have to sleep in a room full of broken glass). 

“Are you having fun?” Gwen asked, after they forded a fast-moving stream. The horses had behaved admirably. 

“Oh, yes. I’ve never even been a day’s ride from Ealdor. I can’t stop looking at everything.” 

Gwen laughed, the sound dancing around his head like bells. He settled more comfortable against her and she squeezed him gently. He sensed the strength in her arms and knew that she was more than just a maid. 

“What’s your favorite thing to look at?” 

“Don’t ask him that!” Arthur immediately said over his shoulder. 

But it was too late. The floodgates had opened. All of the chatter that Merlin had been holding back since that morning spilled out of him, unstoppable as any natural disaster. Once he really started talking, he found it difficult to stop. Hunith often let him prattle on without interruption as she went about her chores, and Merlin was accustomed to that sort of captive audience. It never even occurred to him that Morgana and Gwen wouldn’t want to hear every thought that went through his head. But they were such pleasant thoughts that he couldn’t imagine why anybody wouldn’t want to hear them. Plus, he had questions, and sometimes Morgana would answer them, and sometimes Gwen would. 

“What are these other tracks on trail?” Merlin asked between his observation on the color of sky and his thoughts on when it would be best to eat his apple. 

“Mostly deer,” Arthur said, his voice drifting back. “But it looks like a boar has been along here recently. Within the past day. We need to keep our eyes opened.” 

Merlin jerked with surprise. Not at the mention of the boar—though he had no desire to be anywhere near a boar—but at the obvious proof that Arthur was _listening_ to him. At least listening close enough to quickly answer a question asked absently. 

“How can you tell there’s a boar?” Merlin asked. 

“These tracks…” He pointed ahead of him and glanced over to his right, like he expected Merlin to be right beside him. “Gwen, come up here please.” 

Morgana looked over her shoulder and arched her brow. Merlin didn’t know what that look meant, but he felt Gwen chuckle to herself before she kicked the horse up to join Arthur. 

“Do you see those smaller tracks to the left?” Arthur asked, guiding Merlin’s gaze with his hand. 

“Yes.” 

“You see how they’re spaced apart? Now look slightly to the right. It’s a bigger track, and they’re further apart. They’re also a bit easier to see, so I know they’re fresher.” 

Merlin probably would have figured that out on his own if he’d been able to study it long enough, but he was still fascinated. He liked the sound of Arthur’s voice when Arthur was relaxed. There wasn’t any of the tension Merlin had heard before, and a few times he thought he saw a smile on Arthur’s lips. They were well into the forest before Arthur stopped talking and held up his hand. 

Merlin had been so enraptured by Arthur’s words that at first he didn’t know what had caught Arthur’s attention. Arthur’s horse tossed his head and neighed—a little apprehensively, in Merlin’s opinion. Gwen’s horse lifted its foreleg and stamped its foot, jostling Merlin. 

“Arthur…” Morgana started. 

“Wait.” 

Another beat past before Merlin heard it. He didn’t know what was responsible, but he recognized the sound of sadness when he heard it. Something was in pain. Maybe it was a baby something who lost his mother. 

“What is it?” Merlin whispered. 

“I don’t know. It’s something through those bushes.” Arthur gestured at the underbrush on the other side of Merlin. Merlin sat up straighter, trying to get a glimpse of what could be responsible for that miserable sound, but he saw nothing. He could hear it clearly now, and the sound went right to his fragile heart. He knew even if Arthur led them away, the sound would follow them. All the way back to Ealdor. 

Merlin was in the terrible habit of running without looking—or thinking—and this instance was no exception. He squirmed out of Gwen’s grasp. He caught her unawares, and she didn’t act fast enough to snag his slippery body. He had his leg over the side of the horse, and then he was sliding to the ground. Gwen made another attempt to grab him. He felt her fingertips slide across the back of his neck and then he was running, sprinting blindly into the underbrush.

Gwen cried out his name, and he heard Arthur’s deeper curse. He knew Arthur would follow him. He could hear him moving in his chainmail, hear the heavy sound of his tread as he snapped twigs and knocked through branches. Merlin was smaller and quicker, and he could duck through the worst of it. The sound grew louder as he approached, and he felt an answering tingle in his chest. How could somebody hear something so _sad_ and not shed a few tears in sympathy? 

Finally, Merlin reached the source of the bawling. The fawn was caught in a tangle of brambles. Merlin stopped short, immediately seeing the strange way its hind leg was twisted behind it. It had been following its mother through the dense woods. One single wrong step and it was trapped, its leg broken. 

“Merlin, what do you…” Arthur came to a stop behind him, so close Merlin could feel him at his shoulder. 

“I found it.” 

“Stay here,” Arthur ordered before creeping closer. He gave the fawn as wide berth as he could in the limited space. Merlin watched, transfixed, as Arthur carefully reached for the fawn’s trapped leg. The fawn stilled for a moment, but as soon as Arthur’s fingers were near, started thrashing wildly. Merlin blinked, and the fawn stilled again. Arthur briefly glanced his way before resuming his efforts to free the fawn. But even without the fawn struggling against him, it was a wasted effort. 

“Merlin, I can’t free him,” Arthur said, a little unnecessary. “His leg is broken.” 

Merlin swallowed around a hard lump in his throat. He knew what happened to animals with broken legs. “Maybe we can…” But there wasn’t a solution. He didn’t know how to mend a broken bone with his magic. Soon, the fawn would attract the attention of predators. Or it would starve to death. “You’re…you’re going to have to kill it.” 

“Yes. Go back to Morgana.” 

Merlin shook his head. It seemed important to stay. Almost like there should be a witness for this. It wasn’t anything Merlin could fully articulate, but he wasn’t going to turn his back. 

“Merlin. Go back.” The words were soft. This was no princely demand. His voice was low, but not a growl. 

“I want to stay,” Merlin whispered. He couldn’t have said it louder if he wanted to. It took all the strength he had to defy Arthur so openly. 

“You don’t want to stay, Merlin. You’re…” 

“I’ll keep him still.” 

Arthur looked from Merlin to the fawn and back again. He didn’t look happy about the situation, but he seemed to understand, because he nodded. Merlin folded his arms, tucking his hands under his arms, and willed himself not to look away. He didn’t look away when Arthur reached for the knife in his belt. Or when Arthur gripped the fawn by the back of the neck. Merlin’s throat closed and his eyes burned. They burned so bad he wanted to blink. But he couldn’t blink because if he did, he wouldn’t see it. He made himself see it. 

He saw Arthur pet the fawn’s smooth neck, his gloved fingers like shadows on the deer’s light fur. And he saw the long, thin blade plunge into the small animal’s throat. Blood rushed from the wound, and that was the last thing Merlin saw before the world went slick and blurry with tears. 

#

When it came to Merlin’s tears, his sad faces, his entreating eyes, Arthur had a heart of stone. He was as impenetrable as the castle walls. He had plenty of time and incentive to build those defenses. Trenches were dug deep. He was well fortified. But even the most fortified walls had weaknesses. And Arthur was only human, despite his best attempts. It wasn’t the tears that defeated Arthur. They showered over his heart like hundreds of arrows, but none of them found their mark. And it wasn’t the way his eyes shimmered because Arthur couldn’t see his eyes—they were well-hidden by his small hands. 

What Arthur could no defend against was the way Merlin’s shoulders shook as he soundlessly mourned the fawn. He _wanted_ to say, “Stop being a girl, Merlin.” Or maybe, “Don’t you like venison?” He _wanted_ to slap Merlin on the shoulder and tell him to cheer up. And any other day, he might have. But the memory of being too small for the world, of being unsure and scared, still loomed large. And when he’d been most afraid, Merlin had known what to do. 

Arthur buried the blade in the ground and tugged his gloves off, not wanting to risk staining Merlin’s clothes or skin with blood. He crouched in front of Merlin and reached for him, his hand hovering over Merlin’s shoulder for a moment, and then he was clasping his shoulder and pulling the small body towards him. Merlin didn’t resist him, willingly tucking into Arthur’s chest. Arthur held the back of his head, stopping Merlin from pressing his face to the rough chainmail, trying to be as comforting as he could. 

Merlin reminded him of a bird, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs, feeling fragile and strong at the same time. Arthur felt protective over Merlin—he had since Merlin saved his life, even if he hadn’t particularly _liked_ Merlin at the time. He didn’t try to deny it, nor did he shy away from it. Arthur always believed the source of that instinct was the same place that inspired his desire to care for all his subjects. But this thing inside of him was new. It had nothing to do with the fact that Merlin was a servant and so technically under his care. It had nothing to do with the fact that Arthur was a prince. He just didn’t want anything to happen to Merlin. 

Arthur caught a flash of blue and white through the branches and lifted his hand to acknowledge Gwen. She stopped, head tilted as she studied him, a small smile playing on her lips. He tried to return her smile, but it was difficult to make his mouth do that while Merlin continued to mourn the baby deer. Arthur wondered if he should say something, but he didn’t think this was a hurt he could fix with some light teasing. Arthur hadn’t missed Merlin’s impulse to help anybody who needed it. Stray dogs trailed behind him when he ran his errands through the lower town because he was in the habit of giving them scraps (Merlin didn’t know Arthur had noticed his tendency to take the scraps from Arthur’s own table). Most of the children knew him by name. He’d _risked his life_ to save the druid child from the dungeons, and Arthur didn’t even want to think about all the times he rushed into trouble right on Arthur’s heels. 

Did Merlin cry like this every time? For every single one? No, that wasn’t possible. Arthur kept him pretty busy and while he liked to tease Merlin, he only rarely saw him actually break that far. But maybe this was how he felt on the inside, his heart breaking a little bit for everybody he couldn’t help. 

Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted this much of a look into the workings of Merlin’s mind and heart. It seemed…invasive. He forcefully shut down that line of thought, retreating back behind his fortified walls. It would be safer for both of them. 

“It was so scared,” Merlin finally said between gasps. 

“I know.” 

“I wanted to help.” 

Arthur leaned back and steeled himself as he met Merlin’s swimming eyes. “You did help, Merlin. If you hadn’t found the fawn, it would have suffered for a long time. But now it’s not in pain anymore. It’s…in a better place.” Maybe the Old Religion cared for the departed spirits of deer? Arthur couldn’t really know, since his knowledge of the Old Religion was essentially nil. 

Merlin nodded and then offered a watery smile. “Thank you.” 

Arthur didn’t know what Merlin was thanking him for but he nodded anyway. “Now go find Morgana and Gwen. I’ll be right behind you.” 

This time, Merlin obeyed him. Arthur watched him until he was sure Gwen would find him, and then turned away, knuckles against his lips as he surveyed the remains. Merlin would be fine. He’d been saddened by the death, but he’d also understood why it had to happen. Arthur was grateful for that. It would be easier for Merlin to cope, and it spared Arthur from explaining it. 

When Arthur emerged from the bramble, he found Morgana and Gwen coddling Merlin, hugging him and wiping his face and generally smothering him with affection. Merlin didn’t seem to mind. He had his eyes closed and he was almost smiling and Morgana was fussing at him and asking if he wanted to eat the apple in his pocket. 

“There’s a clearing not too much further. We can camp there for the night,” Arthur said. Nobody voiced an argument to that. 

#

Merlin sidled up close to Arthur long after Morgana tucked him in and fell asleep herself. Arthur was only mildly surprised to see him. Merlin liked to sleep and Arthur figured he was that way as a child. But Merlin also had a mind of his own, and if he didn’t feel like sleeping, no power on earth was going to convince him to go down for the night. Not even Morgana. Arthur slid over a little to make sure he had room on the log and tossed another piece of wood on the fire. He pulled a piece of cake out of his bag and passed it over to Merlin as an afterthought.

“Don’t tell Morgana I gave you sweets,” Arthur warned. 

Merlin smiled up at him with a mouth full of cake, crumbs on the corners of his lips and clinging stubbornly to his chin. Arthur tried to wipe away some of it with his thumb, which just made Merlin’s grin widen. 

“What’s it like being the prince?” Merlin asked between bites. 

“I…don’t really know how to describe it.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes. I like it quite a bit.” 

“How come? Is it fun?”

“It has its moments. I get to fight in tourneys and boss around the servants.” 

“Is it fun to boss around the servants?” 

“It’s great fun. It’s always been one of my favorite pastimes.” 

“It’s not very fun for the servants,” Merlin pointed out. 

“Servants are supposed to be honored to work in the prince’s service. In fact, _good_ servants do everything I say without question.” 

“What if you say something stupid?” 

Arthur laughed. “I’m the prince. I never say anything stupid by definition.” 

“What fun is it to boss around somebody who has to do everything you say anyway?” 

“It’s more fun than you’d think,” Arthur said, stretching his legs out in front of him. The bottoms of his boots began to warm. “Can I trust you with a secret?” 

Merlin nodded eagerly. “I’m good with secrets. Mostly. I promise I won’t tell anybody yours, though.” 

Arthur leaned down and whispered, “Sometimes, I like it when the servants tell me I’m being stupid. I seem to have a soft spot for servants who don’t know their place.” 

“Why is that a secret?” 

“Because…” Arthur stopped, unsure of how to explain to a child that servants were supposed to be less worthy of him simply by the accident of their birth. “Because some people think it’s inappropriate to treat servants above their station.” 

“But you’re the prince. Doesn’t that mean you decide what’s appropriate?” 

“Not necessarily. But when I’m king, yes.” 

Merlin popped the last of the cake in his mouth and noisily licked his fingers. So the table manners were the same regardless of age. “You’ll be a good king.” 

“Thank you, Merlin.” 

“And maybe you’ll remember me.” 

“I will definitely remember you. There’s no doubt of that.” 

Merlin ran his fingers over the ground, picking up and tossing small twigs into the flames. One caught, flared brightly for a moment, then fell into a pile of ash. Merlin yawned widely, and Arthur knew there would only be three or four of those yawns left in him before he passed out. 

“Gwen and Morgana are really nice,” Merlin said. 

“Gwen is.” 

“Arthur…you need to help Morgana.” 

Arthur frowned. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?” 

“She’s…not as strong as she seems. She needs help.” 

“Did she tell you this?” 

Merlin shook his head. “No, she didn’t have to. But I…I just know. Please believe me, Arthur.” 

There was so much hope and desperation in Merlin’s voice that he didn’t dare do anything except nod. “I believe you. What would you have me do?” 

“Talk to her. You weren’t angry when you saw my magic, I know you can help her.” 

“Morgana has magic?” Arthur asked, his heart suddenly heavy. The prince’s manservant having magic was one thing. The king’s ward quite another. Would Uther have it in him to execute his best friend’s daughter? The woman he loved as his own daughter? Arthur most certainly did not want to find out. 

Merlin covered his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. It’s not my secret. But she’s…she’s so lonely. I can just sense it. And you…you’ve got a good heart.” 

“Merlin…” Arthur took his wrists and gently pulled his hands away from his face so Merlin was forced to look at him. “Is she like you? Is this something she was born with?” 

“Yes. I…I think so. She’s so tired. Like she has bad dreams.” 

“She does,” Arthur said. 

“Can you help her?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Arthur promised. 

Merlin looked at him with approval. “I knew you would. Thank you, Arthur.”

“Is there anything else?” Arthur asked dryly. 

“Take care of Guinevere.” 

“I…I intend to.” 

“She’s very nice and she smells good.” 

“I’ve noticed that, too. If you come back to Camelot with us, you can help take care of her.” 

Merlin slid off the log and bent his knees. The fire popped and sent sparks up into the air and Arthur noticed the sad set of his mouth, the crease between his eyebrows. “It isn’t safe for me in Camelot.” 

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but he didn’t want to have this discussion with a child. And Merlin was technically correct—Camelot wasn’t safe for a child sorcerer who couldn’t control his own powers, who was nervous and easily startled, who was so small and breakable. Arthur hated that. He wanted everybody to feel safe inside Camelot, especially the young and the vulnerable. He didn’t think that was too much to hope for. He didn’t think it was unreasonable to want that for his people—for Merlin. 

“It will be,” Arthur promised. “One day.” 

Merlin yawned widely. His eyes were starting to droop. “One day,” he echoed. 

“You should go to sleep now.” 

“I’m not sleepy,” Merlin said around another yawn. “I want to stay up with you.” 

“I’m going to be up keeping watch. You can’t stay up with me.” 

“I’ll keep you company.”

Arthur reached behind him for Merlin’s bed roll, and then settled on the ground beside the boy. He wrapped the blanket around Merlin’s shoulders and then pulled him into his lap. Merlin allowed himself to be manhandled until Arthur had him settled comfortably between his legs, Merlin’s back against his abdomen. The fire was dying down now, and Arthur knew a chill would set in soon. Merlin would be more comfortable this way rather than sleeping on the cold, hard ground. 

“Good night, Arthur,” he mumbled. 

“Good night, Merlin.” 

Morgana murmured something in her sleep and turned to move closer to the heat of Gwen’s body. Then everything was still, and once again Arthur was left alone with his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

That night in Camelot, a sorcerer burned. And his magic with him. 

#

Merlin woke up and he didn’t want to move. Something warm and solid was against his back, and strong arms were wrapped around him. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the contact for as long as he could, breathing in the scent of dew and dawn and Arthur. He sighed softly and wiggled a little, settling in more comfortably. Arthur would be awake soon—he clearly wasn’t now or else he wouldn’t let Merlin lounge against him—and then they would have to talk. And Merlin wasn’t any more prepared at that moment to talk than he was the morning before. In many ways, he was _less_ prepared now. 

Before he could say anything intelligent, he needed to process everything. But the memories from the day before were a little broken and at times completely fragmented. He remembered destroying everything in Gaius’ room, and the accompanying fear. He remembered running and he remembered Arthur finding him. He remembered being _scared_ of Arthur and he remembered the fawn and Arthur holding him, trying to comfort him. Merlin felt a pinch in his heart at that, more surprised than anything that Arthur had passed by the opportunity to tease him. He was pretty certain that Arthur had never seen anybody cry over the death of a fawn, and even more sure that Arthur had never _comforted_ anybody over such an insignificant, common event. 

But Arthur had comforted him, and that meant more to Merlin than he could say. 

He felt Arthur’s breath change and then he was shifting, tension gradually tightening the muscles against Merlin’s back. Merlin took a deep breath and opened his eyes. His head was resting on Arthur’s shoulder and he was looking directly at the line of the prince’s jaw. If he wanted to (not that he had any reason to want this of course) he could have kissed Arthur just below his ear. 

That’s when he noticed Arthur was looking at him from the corner of his eye. 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Merlin said, the words raspy. 

“Indeed.” 

“Where are Morgana and Gwen?” 

“Still sleeping.” 

Merlin nodded. He needed to sit up. He needed to sit up before Arthur made him sit up. He’d never been more comfortable. This was horrible. And it was only going to get more horrible if he didn’t move. 

“Should we wake them?” Merlin asked in lieu of sitting up. 

“No, not yet. I think we should talk. Don’t you?” 

Merlin nodded and sat forward, prepared to try to get his legs under him. Unfortunately, Arthur moved at the same time, and Merlin wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but they ended up falling together again, legs and arms tangled, Merlin gasping and Arthur cursing. 

“Let’s try this,” Arthur said tightly. “You stand up.” 

“Yes, sire.” 

Once Merlin found his feet, he put his hand down to help Arthur up. Arthur took it grudgingly, and it seemed much smaller than it did the day before when Merlin was convinced it could snap his spine in two. Arthur gestured toward the horses and Merlin followed as quietly as he could, sneaking glances at the sleeping girls. Arthur wouldn’t talk to him at all if he thought they were going to be overheard. Merlin was so confused, he didn’t know if the possibility of not talking at all was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Why are we going to Ealdor?” Merlin asked, once they were on the other side of the horses. Arthur was still walking, following a trail that must have led to fresh water. “Are you…leaving me there?” 

Arthur briefly looked over his shoulder, and Merlin saw a flash of irritation in his eyes. “What?” 

“Are you banishing me?” 

“Banishing you? No, I’m not banishing you. You wanted to go to Ealdor.” 

“What I want isn’t usually that high on your priority list,” Merlin observed. 

“And it isn’t now. But I thought taking you out of the castle would be a good idea. Morgana decided it would be a fine idea for all of us to go.” 

“Oh. So if I still want to go…” 

“We’re going back to Camelot as soon as Morgana and Gwen are ready.” 

“Right. Of course.” 

Merlin waited several minutes for further clarification or what would happen once they returned to Camelot, but Arthur was still walking with his head down, apparently doing his best to ignore Merlin. 

“Will the guards be waiting for us, sire?” Merlin finally asked as lightly as he could. 

“No.” 

That was something. But not enough. Merlin almost sighed with frustration. Why did Arthur have to retreat so far into himself? He didn’t need Arthur to cut himself open and bleed all of his emotions out for Merlin to see, but a hint of what was going on behind his blue eyes would have been helpful. He couldn’t even try to read Arthur’s face because Arthur wouldn’t look at him. 

“Are you angry with me?” Merlin asked. 

“No.” 

Strangely enough, Merlin believed him. This wasn’t quite as heavy as one of Arthur’s angry silences. The first sign that they reached the water was the sound of Arthur’s boot splashing into the narrow stream. He sighed, bent, and used his cup hands to throw water over his face and hair. His gentle shivered betrayed how cool the water was, but it still shocked Merlin when he mimicked the gesture. 

“This was easier when you were, you know…” Arthur held his hand near his thigh. “And you didn’t even like me.” 

“What do you mean I didn’t like you? You beat me up! More than once. I still have the bruises.” 

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t like you, Merlin.” Arthur’s exasperation was clear. “I just…” 

“Wanted to beat me up?” 

“It was the only way to get away from you.” 

“Well, I can’t imagine what I thought you didn’t like me. You were a wretched child, Arthur.” 

Arthur straightened, water running down his flushed cheeks. “Excuse me? I’m still your prince.” 

“Now I know why you’re such a prat,” Merlin flung back with a smile. He’d rather tease Arthur about what a little monster he was than talk about magic and all the way sorcerers were executed in Camelot.

“And now I know why you’re such a girl,” Arthur sneered. 

“I’m not a girl. I was just a sensitive child.” 

“Sensitive?” Arthur snorted. “Tell me, Merlin, is there _anything_ you wouldn’t cry over?” 

“I can think of a few things,” Merlin muttered. 

Arthur glared at him, every inch the petulant child Merlin remembered. He started chuckling, and that felt so good, he allowed it to become a full laugh. The more he laughed, the more Arthur glared, which didn’t do anything to dampen Merlin’s amusement. By the time Merlin was doubled-over, Arthur’s façade began to crumble. His chuckles were lower than Merlin’s, and as soon as Arthur’s heavy hand fell on Merlin’s shoulder in a companionable slap, Merlin knew everything was going to be fine. 

“What kind of _stupid_ spell is that, anyway?” Arthur asked. 

“I don’t…” Merlin gasped for breath. “I don’t know, sire. But the sorcerer must have been evil indeed to wish _that_ on Camelot again.” 

“Oi! Camelot loved me when I was a child.” 

“Love and fear are two different things, Arthur.” 

“They loved me,” Arthur said confidently. “I wonder at the twisted mind that would de-age you.” 

“I suppose we could always ask what that was all about.” 

“No, Father probably executed him last night.” 

And just like that, the laughter was gone. Merlin looked down, suddenly fascinated by the way the clear water broke over the rocks behind Arthur’s foot. Tiny rainbows danced in the air, and Merlin wondered what Arthur would do if plucked up one of those rainbows and made a gift of it. Laugh at him or cleave his head from his shoulders? 

“I’m not going to tell father what you showed me,” Arthur said. “If that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I was a bit worried about it, yes.” 

“Yesterday morning…I might have had a different answer,” Arthur admitted. “I thought…I thought you were purposefully defying Camelot’s laws. I didn’t realize it was…” 

“Natural?” 

Arthur nodded. “Are all sorcerers that way?” 

“No, I don’t think so. Some are born with it, but others can learn the incantations. Just like some of them are evil, or at least, selfish with their magic, and others aren’t. I wanted to tell you.” 

Arthur shook his head. “I understand why you didn’t. We don’t need to discuss it.” 

Merlin wasn’t sure if that was for his benefit or Arthur’s. But he wasn’t going to complain. “Do you have any…questions about it?” 

“Yes, but I don’t yet know if I wish to know the answers. I’ll keep my questions to myself until I decide.” 

“Fair enough. And just you know, I didn’t cry like that all of the time. I was just under a great deal of stress.” 

Arthur snorted. “Who are you trying to fool? I know you too well now. You probably cried every single day until you were eighteen.” 

“Not every single day.” 

“But most days?” Arthur pushed.

“Once a week, at most.” 

“Right. Once a week.” 

“And if you keep throwing that back in my face, I’m going to remind you every day what a terror you were. And how spoiled you are.” Merlin lifted his shirt up to his neck. “See? What did I tell you? Still covered in bruises.” 

“Put your shirt down, Merlin.” 

“Why? You don’t like to see the reminder that you’re a brute and a bully?” 

“You’re just upset because I beat you.” 

“Beat me?” Merlin was so surprised he did drop his shirt. “ _You_ yielded to me. Don’t you remember that bit?” 

“The first time. The second time, though, I had a five minute head start on you.” 

Merlin sighed. “Don’t remind me. You scared me half to death.” 

“For what it’s worth, nobody else could keep up with me at that age. You were a lot more…persistent.”

“Of course I was. My hours would have been numbered if I had to report to Uther that his six-year-old son was gone.” 

“I liked you more than the other servants.” 

“I shudder to think of how you treated the servants you didn’t like.” 

Arthur’s mouth twisted. “It’s probably best that you don’t.” 

“Arthur? Merlin?” Morgana’s voice drifted to them from behind the trees. 

“We’re here, Morgana.” 

“I was just wondering if Merlin needed…” She emerged from the darker woods and stopped. “Oh. I guess the enchantment is lifted?” 

Merlin smiled, feeling suddenly shy. Morgana had been quite happy to hug him and kiss him, and Merlin had rather enjoyed it at the time, but now he did feel embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. He hated that Arthur was right. Judging from the color of Morgana’s cheeks, her feelings weren’t too far removed from his own. 

“Thank you for your kindness, my lady,” Merlin said, stepping forward. “It was…it is…very appreciated.” 

“Somebody had you to show you a bit of kindness,” Morgana said, looking pointedly at Arthur. 

Merlin opened his mouth to defend Arthur, as Arthur had been nothing except kind to him, but Arthur caught his eye and shook his head. “You have a good heart, Morgana.” 

Morgana acknowledged that with a small nod. “Gwen has started to pack the horses. I take it this means we won’t be going to Ealdor.” 

“No, we’re going back to Camelot. I tried to tell you yesterday…” 

“I know what you tried to tell me,” Morgana retorted. “I’m not stupid. But if you thought for a second that I would let you drag Merlin off into the woods by yourself, then you’re crazier than I thought.” 

Arthur frowned. “What did you think I was going to do? I was trying to take him away from danger.” 

“I know. But you’re not very nurturing, are you?” 

“I’m not supposed to be _nurturing_ , Morgana. I’m not a woman.” 

“Precisely. I don’t know why you were so upset when I suggested we accompany you.” 

“First, you didn’t _suggest_ anything. You announced you’d be joining us without even waiting for an invitation. Which is quite rude, my lady. Second, I wasn’t upset.” 

“You huffed out of the room like I stole your favorite toy.” 

Arthur pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. Anybody else would have quaked under the weight of his glare, but Morgana merely smirked at him, her eyes dancing with amusement. Merlin felt distinctly uncomfortable, like the day before when he knew they were arguing over him. She turned around and headed back to camp before Arthur could defend himself, but his gaze followed her until she disappeared. 

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Arthur grumbled. 

“Clearly.” 

Arthur’s ice gaze landed on him. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing!” Merlin held his hands up. “I was agreeing with you, Arthur.” 

“Oh. Well, good.” 

“Come on, sire. Let’s get back before the king has realizes you and Morgana have gone missing and sends out the guard.” 

Merlin waited for Arthur to start walking, happily falling into step behind him. 

#

It took Arthur two days to find the time, and the courage, to speak to Morgana as Merlin had asked him to. Merlin hadn’t brought it up again or even referred obliquely to the conversation they had beside the fire. If Arthur wanted to pretend Merlin never told him anything at all, he could have. But Arthur had promised Merlin he _would_ and he couldn’t pretend he never gave Merlin his word. That was how he justified standing outside of Morgana’s chamber after supper, trying to figure out how he could express his support without implicating himself or, worse, Merlin. 

Gwen admitted him and then excused herself before he could ask her to, leaving him to face her alone. He didn’t even want to have this discussion once, let alone twice. It didn’t seem like it should be his responsibility, but Merlin had made it his responsibility. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Morgana asked, barely looking up from the embroidery on her lap. 

“Merlin…” 

“Is something wrong with Merlin?” Morgana asked, looking up sharply. 

“No, he’s fine.” 

Arthur was really beginning to wonder if there was something to his earlier suspicions about Merlin’s feelings for Morgana. It wasn’t possible for Morgana to return those feelings…was it? If so, it cast her behavior over enchanted Merlin in a completely different light. Of course she wanted to be near him and protect him if she loved him. Why else would she act that way? 

“I actually wanted to talk about you.” 

Suspicion slowly replaced concern. “What about me?” 

“I…” When she looked at him like that, it was difficult to care about her well-being. It just made his palms itch with annoyance. “I wanted to know how you were sleeping, my lady.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Is it so surprising that I might be concerned for your health?” 

“Honestly? Yes. Why are you asking?” 

“The other night in the woods. You were…restless. I wondered if you were having bad dreams again.” 

“Ah, no. Not recently. Lately, everything’s been quiet.” 

“That’s good. If…if the dreams start again, you can talk to me about them.” 

“Of course, Arthur.” 

“No, Morgana.” He pulled up Gwen’s chair and sat with his knees touching hers. He held her hand between his and said as earnestly as he could, “I really want you to come to me if you need anything.” 

“Arthur?” He had meant for her be reassured, but she looked more alarmed than ever. 

“I know they might not be _just_ dreams,” Arthur said softly. 

That made everything worse. She yanked away from him and stood so quickly her chair clattered to the floor. She hurried away from him, moving to stand on the other side of the bed, putting as much room between them as physically possible. 

“I don’t know what kind of nasty trick this is,” Morgana bit out. “But I want you to leave.” 

“Morgana…” Arthur stood slowly, hoping she wouldn’t just bolt from the room. “This isn’t a trick. And I’ll leave if you want me to. I just want you to know that I’m here, Morgana. And I…you can trust me. No matter what.” 

Morgana relaxed slightly around the eyes. “Thank you, Arthur. I won’t forget that.” 

Arthur swallowed. “Good. Good.” 

He couldn’t make his escape fast enough, relieved that Morgana hadn’t been holding a blade. He had no idea if this is what Merlin had meant when he asked Arthur to talk to her, but it was the best he could do. 

Merlin was half-heartedly straightening the bed when Arthur returned, and Arthur decided not to ask why the bed hadn’t been straightened that morning after Arthur vacated it. Mostly because he knew Merlin would complain about catching up after two missed days of work and point out that not every one of Arthur’s commands can be top priorities. He just collapsed in his chair and watched Merlin work. Merlin looked at him over his shoulder once or twice, but this wasn’t an unusual occurrence in Arthur’s chambers. Merlin was less likely to get distracted and do a terrible job if Arthur kept an eye on him. 

“I spoke to Morgana just now.” 

Merlin grunted in response, clearly thinking Arthur’s announcement didn’t merit any words. 

“About her dreams.” 

Merlin stiffened. “Oh. I see.” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“I am.” 

“Why? Didn’t I tell you I would?” 

“No. Well, yes. I mean, I didn’t think that you would remember.” 

“You asked me to. I told you I would.” 

“Yes, I remember the sequence of events. But I’m a servant. I wasn’t even a servant then. I was a peasant boy.” 

“You’re still a peasant.” 

“You just made my argument for me.” 

Arthur sighed. “She didn’t want to talk about it. She nearly punched me in the face when I implied I knew it might be magic.” 

Merlin nodded knowingly. “I was scared that was going to happen.” 

Arthur gaped. “Then why did you ask me to do it!” 

“I was six when I asked you to do it. I wasn’t thinking about how much it would frighten her. I was just thinking about how you were so nice to me and how I wanted the same for her.” Merlin’s voice faded until the final word was barely a whisper. 

“I should have realized. After all, you didn’t want me to know, either.” 

“It’s just a little…it’s not that she doesn’t trust you…or want to trust you. It’s just…” 

“Not safe, Merlin. I know.” 

“That’s not what I was going to say.” But it was. 

Arthur rubbed his eyes. “Today I think I miss being six.” 

“I guess you’re not just talking about Morgana?” 

“There have been some skirmishes on the border with Mercia, and reports of at least one village raided.” 

“What does that mean? Does that mean there’s going to be a war?” 

“No, but it might mean we’ll be riding out to secure the borders.” 

“Is that why you wish you were six again?” Merlin asked. 

“No, it’s because I…” Arthur stopped with a short gasp, cutting off the words before they could condemn him. He was not, under any circumstances, going to tell Merlin wanted he really wanted at that moment. He wished things could be easier. “Never mind.” 

“I’m all done here. Do you want a bath tonight?” 

Arthur shook his head. The longer he sat there, the more down he felt. He kept thinking of Morgana’s startled look of distrust, of Merlin’s fear, of the terrible secret they kept and had tried to keep from him. His lungs were just fine now. Besides the attacks he had under the enchantment, he hadn’t experienced anything like that in years. But now it almost felt like there were ropes wrapped around his chest and maybe, just maybe, they were tightening. That feeling only got worse when he looked at Merlin. 

“You’re dismissed for the night. I’m going to be taking breakfast with Father, but I still expect you to be here on time.” 

“Of course.” 

Merlin fluttered around the room, gradually making his way to the door. Arthur recognized that behavior. For whatever reason, Merlin didn’t want to leave. That probably meant Merlin had something on his mind. Something he wanted to say but didn’t think he _could_ say. Arthur could have ignored him and let him hover until he grew bored with it and finally left Arthur alone. He could have done, but he never did. 

“Merlin. Out with it.” 

“I just…I was wondering if…I mean, I was thinking about when you were, you know, small and…upset.” 

Arthur sighed and stood up. “What of it?” 

Merlin opened his mouth, closed it, looked inquisitive, half stepped away, knitted his brows together like he was thinking of something quite serious, and then finally held out his arms. For a hug. 

At first, Arthur could only gape at him, unsure of what he was supposed to do. The first, most obvious option was to tell Merlin to stop being a girl. The second was to tease Merlin until he cried _then_ tell him to stop being a girl. The third was to tease Merlin until he cried and then kick him out. Arthur didn’t even try to disguise his thoughts. He knew Merlin must have known exactly what he was considering, and was probably even aware of the twisted satisfaction Arthur would get from it. He was a grown man. They were both grown men. They didn’t do this.

Merlin did not seem aware of that fact. He just stood there, arms out, body open and welcoming. He was as vulnerable as anybody Arthur had ever seen to all sorts of attacks, from verbal to physical. But he had a patient, hopeful expression. Arthur could almost hear him say _trust me, Arthur. Please trust me._ And it hurt when somebody you cared for, somebody you wanted to help, somebody you worried about and fought for, couldn’t trust you. 

“Come here, Merlin. You look silly standing like that.” 

Merlin didn’t seem offended by that. He dropped his arms and crossed the room until they were standing toe to toe. Before he could think about it too deeply or change his mind, Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin and pulled him close. Merlin squeaked as Arthur enclosed him with his arms and smashed him to his chest, but he returned the embrace and…it was nice. A lot nicer than Arthur expected. Nicer even than when he fell asleep curled against Merlin. Like some of the ragged edges had been filed down. 

Arthur was still contemplating that when he felt warm lips against his neck. He tensed with surprise, but the kiss was pretty nice, too. He closed his eyes, sighing as Merlin left a trail of small caresses along his jaw line. He’d never been so still in his life. He’d never been so unsure of what was happening. He couldn’t deal with this. He wanted to tell Merlin as much, but his throat was clenched too tight and he didn’t really _want_ to tell Merlin anyway. 

Merlin finally reached Arthur’s mouth, and the kiss he placed on his slightly parted lips was chaste and tender, but Arthur sensed something more behind it. A deeper desire. A heat that didn’t belong in that sort of kiss, that sort of embrace. Something inside of Arthur responded immediately, surging in his chest to find more of that heat. He moaned softly and opened his mouth, inviting Merlin to deepen the kiss. Merlin did and Arthur realized that this was quite nice as well.


	4. Porny Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is NC-17 folks

Merlin had learned many things about Arthur thanks to the strange spell that had made them both children. He learned that Arthur had always been a bully, that he could manipulate Merlin’s more tender feelings at any age, and that his stubbornness was a trait he’d been born with, not one he developed. None of these things were surprises. He also got a good luck at Arthur’s heart, a reminder of his deep courage, and a hint that maybe, just maybe, Arthur needed people, too. But the most startling, and perhaps the most important discovery, didn’t happen until after they were both back to normal. Arthur liked to snog. A lot. And he was very, very good at it. 

Merlin became Arthur’s prey, and except for the risk of heart attack, Merlin very much didn’t mind. He sometimes wondered if Arthur had made a game of his surprise attacks—there was a certain playfulness in the way Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders, drove him against the wall, and plundered his mouth. These attacks could happen any time, though Merlin found he was mostly safe from them in the lower town and Gaius’ chambers. Most other times, he’d be walking down the hall, thinking his thoughts, possibly humming, and Arthur would practically pounce, blindsiding him and claiming his mouth before Merlin could even shout in protest. 

Not that Merlin ever wanted to do that. Arthur’s mouth was, it had be said, a work of art. It fit well with Merlin’s, so there was no awkwardness. And there was never any excessive drool. Arthur’s lips were firm, but still rather soft (almost like a girl’s, though Merlin never mentioned that), and he liked to his tongue. He was a master when it came to his tongue and the things he could do with it and the way he could make Merlin moan. The kisses were usually hot and hungry, working Merlin up within seconds. His cock would strain against his laces and he would squirm and push his hips against Arthur’s in the most wanton way. Sometimes, Arthur grabbed his hips to hold him still, but that would only make Merlin writhe harder. 

But then the snogging would stop. Arthur wanted more. Merlin could feel it. But there appeared to be a timer in Arthur’s head, and as soon as the gong sounded, he would stop. He would step back and offer a crooked smile and Merlin would wish and pray that he wouldn’t take another step back. But he always did. When they were in some out of the way corridor or doorway, Merlin didn’t mind so much. But when they were in the privacy of Arthur’s chambers, Merlin didn’t understand why it happened. Did Arthur enjoy having blue balls? 

Eventually, Merlin realized that if he wanted to do anything more than kiss Arthur and then get himself off at the soonest convenient time he would need to take the matter in hand. Merlin made this decision after Arthur attacked him four times-- _four_ bloody times—in the same day. The fourth time was after Arthur finished his bath. He was wearing a long shirt and soft breeches and he smelled unbelievably good. Merlin was happily kissing and licking at Arthur’s throat when the other man began to step back. Merlin was already well aware of the signs of Arthur’s retreat, and he was prepared for it. With a small warning growl, Merlin spun them around so that Arthur’s shoulders were against the stone wall. 

Arthur gasped but didn’t use his superior strength to push Merlin away. His head dropped back another inch, and Merlin sighed against the warm, soft skin. Merlin tried to remember that it would be difficult to for Arthur to hide the bruises and little, purple love bites, but something about the smell and taste of him, the sound of his breath, made Merlin forget about everything else. He’d magic the purple marks away if he had to. 

Merlin pushed his hands under Arthur’s shirt, his fingers sparking and sizzling with energy with every brush across Arthur’s ribs. He knew Arthur could feel it, too, because he jerked against Merlin’s mouth and twitched and shivered. The more Merlin rubbed his palms over Arthur’s skin, the more heat he generated until the air itself seemed charged. Arthur’s hands went to his hips, and he jerked Merlin closer, fitting him snuggly between his thighs. His cock was hard, the ridge outline in the soft material. Arthur’s grip tightened, his thumbs digging into Merlin’s flesh. His hands were strong. Strong enough to hold Merlin down to the bed—which had never seemed so far away as it did at that moment. 

Merlin gathered the material of Arthur’s shirt and bunched it between his fingers. He managed to break contact long enough to rip the shift over Arthur’s head, exposing his smooth skin and hard muscles to Merlin’s mouth. There was so much to kiss. So much to taste. When his teeth scraped across Arthur’s hard nipple, they both trembled. He tugged the flesh between his teeth, biting down without thought of being gentle. He just wanted to feel the skin and the heat against his tongue. He just wanted to hear Arthur moan. 

He didn’t expect Arthur to roar. He certainly didn’t expect Arthur to put both hands against his chest and push him away, sending him stumbling backwards. He might have fallen right on his ass, but Arthur’s reflexes were sharp, and he had his hands on Merlin’s shoulders immediately, keeping him upright. Arthur’s eyes were dark, unreadable, and his mouth was half open. 

“Arthur, is…” 

Arthur didn’t hear the end of that question, because Arthur cut off the words with a hard kiss. His teeth were sharp against Merlin’s lips, his tongue filling Merlin’s mouth. Arthur started to walk, partially lifting Merlin off the floor so the bottom of his feet barely brushed against the ground. Arthur’s strides were long, purposeful, eating up the space between them and the bed. Merlin’s legs were pressed against the edge almost as soon as Merlin realized they were moving. He held Arthur’s arms, gripping the large muscles so tightly that when Arthur lowered him to the bed, he was forced to bend low at the waist, following Merlin down to the bed. 

Merlin trailed his hand up Arthur’s spine and across the nape of his neck, burying his hand in Arthur’s soft hair. His other hand went to Arthur’s ass, reminding him that Arthur still had his pants on. He tugged at them weakly, arching beneath Arthur’s hard kisses on his neck and shoulders. Arthur kissed him like Merlin wasn’t the only one who longed to see marks. 

“Get these clothes off of me,” Merlin said, or tried to say. “Arthur…please. Need to feel you.” 

Arthur moaned, his hot breath fanning over Merlin’s Adam’s apple, his hands ripping at Merlin’s shirt. He’d already lost the jacket and the scarf, and it seemed terribly awkward, impossible, to get the rough shirt off. Arthur finally straightened, pulling Merlin with him, and ripped the shirt over his head. Then twenty fingers fumbled with two sets of laces, getting in each other’s way, damp with sweat. Arthur batted Merlin’s hands away at one point, and Merlin barely felt the sting. It was nothing compared to the way his body ached for Arthur’s. He was hot and needed to feel Arthur’s cooler skin. He couldn’t stop shivering and he needed the heat from Arthur’s mouth. 

Arthur tugged Merlin’s pants past his hips and Merlin quickly kicked them away. He pushed himself further back on the mattress, and reached for Arthur at the same time Arthur sank to the mattress. This time, there was nothing between them. The tip of Arthur’s cock dragged across Merlin’s thigh, and the hair on his chest tickled Merlin’s smoother skin. Arthur threaded his fingers through Merlin’s hair, fingers twisting through the strands, pulling gently as he licked at the corners of Merlin’s mouth. 

“Merlin.” 

Merlin shivered, the warmth in Arthur’s voice unfolding slowly through his chest and down his spine. Arthur caught Merlin’s bottom lip between his, the tip of his tongue running over the smooth skin. Merlin shivered again, goose bumps covering his arms and the back of his neck. Merlin’s palms flowed over Arthur’s body, tracing the ridges and lines, creating that strange energy again. _Like lighting_ , Merlin remembered, _his magic is like lightning._

“Arthur…why didn’t we do this sooner?” Merlin asked, lifting his head so he could reach the tight muscle on his shoulder. 

“I…I wanted to.” 

Which didn’t really answer Merlin’s question. Not that Merlin needed an answer. All that mattered was that they were together at that moment and nothing separated them. But they were still mostly just kissing and Merlin’s balls were tight and he was starting to feel brittle. 

“Arthur…more. Please. You’re making me crazy.” 

“I…I’m not sure what more…” 

“What?” He pushed gently on Arthur’s shoulder until he lifted his head. “What? You’ve never…are you a…never?” 

“Never,” Arthur said, ducking his head, the ridges of his cheeks coloring. 

“Me, neither.” 

Arthur looked up sharply. “Really? I thought…I thought you would have…since you’re from the country and all.” 

“I thought you would have since you’re the prince and all.” Merlin wiggled against him. “What do you want to do?” 

“If I knew that, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” 

Merlin laughed. “No, I guess not. Can I…I just want to…” He shifted his weight, rolling Arthur onto his back. “I need to…” 

“What is it?” 

Merlin didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what _it_ was. All he knew was the desire coiling through him, the hunger to taste Arthur’s skin and to know every inch of him. He pressed his mouth to Arthur’s throat, but he didn’t linger there. He moved down Arthur’s body leaving a trail of wet, hungry kisses, his nostrils flaring with each deep breath. He wanted to breathe in all of Arthur. When he reached the soft hair between Arthur’s legs, the smell sharpened, became more heady. It was musky and earthy and Merlin dragged his tongue across the hair, wondering if his skin tasted as good as he smelled. 

“Merlin…” 

He wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s cock the same way he liked to grip himself, smoothing his palm from the base to the tip and back down again. Arthur’s skin was smooth and hot and slick. The vein on the underside throbbed against his thumb, and each time he brushed the pad of his finger over Arthur’s slit, there was fresh liquid. Caught up in his curiosity, Merlin brought his finger to his mouth and taste that liquid, surprised by how salty it was. He licked his other fingers as well, delighted by the way Arthur tasted on his own skin. 

Merlin realized that if he wanted more, he needed to go right to the source. He looked up through his lashes to study Arthur’s face, eager to see any hint of pleasure or delight or lust. He was staring back at Merlin, his eyes heavy. Merlin’s throat tightened, something hot and sharp twisting through him. 

Merlin dragged the flat of his tongue over Arthur’s crown before he could change his mind, tense with uncertainty. He didn’t know if he’d like it. He didn’t know if Arthur would like it. But he found himself doing it a second time. And a third time. At the fourth long, slow lick he realized Arthur wasn’t making a noise because Arthur _couldn’t_ make a noise. He wasn’t even breathing. 

“Arthur?” 

Arthur whimpered. 

“You’ve got to breathe.” 

Arthur whimpered again. 

“Breathe, Arthur.” 

He nodded and dragged in a deep breath. Merlin watched him for a few beats, making sure Arthur wouldn’t forget again before he ducked his head and closed his lips around the heated flesh. Arthur moaned Merlin’s name, and that was followed by a series of moans and pleas and half-words. Merlin was just grateful that Arthur seemed to be enjoying himself so much, because the inside of his cheeks were tingling and his ears were ringing and the taste of Arthur’s arousal was coating his tongue. He moved his lips lower, taking in more and more of Arthur’s length. His cock felt good resting against his tongue and sliding across the roof of his mouth. 

Merlin was intoxicated—the sounds, the scents, the taste, the texture. His own cock was throbbing in time with his heart, and he shifted his hips, pressing his erection against Arthur’s leg. Arthur bent and straightened his knee, and Merlin began rocking, desperate for more friction. He didn’t want to get off this way, but it was better than his own head, and he couldn’t bring himself to release Arthur’s length from his mouth. 

“Faster…just a little bit faster…please…just a little…” 

Merlin didn’t need to hear Arthur’s pleas. But he sure liked them. Arthur’s voice was breathy and low and rough. Merlin had _never_ hard anything like it in his life. And no other sentence, no other words, ever hit Merlin so low. Each syllable and each breath went directly to his cock. He was going to get off just from the sound of Arthur’s voice and Merlin couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or not. But even with his lips stretched around Arthur’s shaft, he didn’t feel like they were quite close enough. There was more. He needed more. 

“Merlin…Merlin…I’m so…” 

His hips shot forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of Merlin’s throat. Merlin automatically swallowed, and then he felt the quick jerk against his tongue and warm liquid flooded his mouth and throat. Merlin felt it dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, though he tried to swallow as much as he could—though it was difficult with Arthur’s cock still jerking against the roof of his mouth. Merlin was forced to lift his head, but he didn’t have a chance to swallow before Arthur grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. 

Arthur shoved his tongue into Merlin’s mouth, and Merlin knew he could taste his own spending, but that didn’t seem to bother him as their tongues twined together. 

#

Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin’s shoulders and rolled him onto the mattress. He pushed his leg between Merlin’s thighs, his knee pushing against Merlin’s balls. He’d never felt so satisfied and so hungry at the same time. There was something hollow inside of him. There was something clawing at his throat, something hot, something stealing his words. The only thing he wanted was to give Merlin what he needed and he didn’t even know where to begin. 

“Merlin, tell me…” 

“Just touch me.” Merlin put his palm up, and Arthur slid his fingers through Merlin’s, clasping his hand. As soon as their palms touched, a jolt went through Arthur. It might have been his imagination, but Arthur knew better. It was something inside of him calling out for Merlin, pleading for some sort of connection. Merlin’s lips were swollen, and his mouth glistened. His hair was standing on end and Arthur had never seen him look so disheveled. Or so beautiful. Arthur was glad Merlin couldn’t read his mind, though he knew he was in danger of blurting everything, every half-crazed thought, every unfamiliar emotion. They were rushing too close to the surface, like they were seeking any crack in his armor so they could spill out of him. It might have had something to do with the way Merlin used his mouth, because Arthur didn’t even know it was possible to feel like _that_. 

Arthur reached between their bodies to fist Merlin’s cock, gently pressing forward with his knee with every downward stroke. Merlin moaned, his spine curving as he arched upward. One leg went around the back of Arthur’s thigh, holding him tight. Of course, Arthur wasn’t going to go anywhere. No force on earth was powerful enough to pull him from Merlin’s embrace at that second. Not with his fingers sliding over Merlin’s slick flesh, and his own cock growing hard again just from being that close to his manservant. 

“Arthur…Arthur…” 

“What?” 

“You’ve got…oh gods…” 

“What? Merlin? What is it?” 

“You’ve got to stop.” 

Arthur lifted his head. “You have _got_ to be joking?” 

Merlin’s lips thinned and he shook his head quickly. “Not joking.” 

“Why have I got to stop? I don’t want to stop. I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to stop, either.” 

“You have to. Arthur, _please_.” 

“Just…tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I can’t.” 

“ _Merlin_ , I’m not joking. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I can feel it.” 

Arthur reminded himself that not was not a good time to start being annoyed with Merlin, even if Merlin was being more than a bit annoying. “Feel what?” 

“The…the magic.” Merlin turned his head away from Arthur and closed his eyes. “It’s building…it’s responding to you. I can feel it and I don’t know if I can control it. So you should just…stop. I can go.” 

“Merlin…” Arthur sighed. “Will you look at me, please?” 

Merlin looked at Arthur from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t turn his head. It almost looked like he was wincing, which changed the annoyed feeling into a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Merlin…I love you.” 

“What?” 

“Well…I do. All of you, including the magic parts. So don’t feel like you have to hide from me. I trust you.” 

“Arthur…” Merlin cupped the back of Arthur’s head and pulled him into a slow kiss. Arthur let Merlin control it, following his lead as the kiss deepened and his head started to spin and golden light flared behind his eyes. He felt like he was falling and then he felt like he was flying. “Touch me, please.” 

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice. He began pumping his wrist again like he never stopped, using his body to touch every inch of Merlin he could. His eyes fluttered open, and he realized why everything was golden. Merlin broke away from the kiss and dropped his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing each time he gasped. Arthur tilted his head and licked at the skin, moving his palm faster and faster over Merlin’s slick skin. 

“Show me,” Arthur whispered, mouthing words against Merlin’s throat. “Show me everything.” 

“Arthur!” 

The light grew brighter and warmer and then Arthur felt like he was sinking into Merlin’s body. It was almost like when Merlin wrapped his mouth around Arthur’s cock, only the feeling was more intense and it was _everywhere_. Merlin was holding him and inside of him and welcoming him. His cock was pulsing in Arthur’s hand, and Arthur thought he felt Merlin’s fingers gripping him again. Only Merlin was still holding Arthur’s free hand, and Merlin’s other palm was on the back of Arthur’s neck. Still, Arthur felt like he was being touched and caressed and massaged. He felt strong and weak at the same time, and then the pleasure crystallized in the pit of his stomach for the second time that night. It erupted inside of him and he might have shouted Merlin’s name or whispered Merlin’s name or maybe he didn’t say anything at all. 

“Not bad for our first time,” Merlin muttered some immeasurable time later. 

“No. We seem to be naturals. Which isn’t a big surprise when it comes to me. You on the other hand…” 

“Please. Between the two of us, I think it’s obvious who’s better at it.” 

“I made you lose control of your magic.” 

“I made you finish twice.” 

“Are we going to keep score?” Arthur asked, his fingers tightening around Merlin’s sensitive cock.

Merlin jerked and tried to twist from Arthur’s grip. “Don’t. I can’t…stand that right now.” 

“You sure? Because if we’re keeping score, I’ll be happy to even things up.” 

“Not now…Arthur…” 

Arthur loosened his grip and grinned lazily. “Not now? When?” 

“Maybe an hour?” 

“An hour? That’s much too long.” 

“Really?” Merlin mimicked him, sliding the heel of his hand over Arthur’s crown. Arthur sucked his breath in sharply and his hips jolted back, like he was trying to escape Merlin’s touch. “Still think it’s too long?” 

“An hour sounds good,” Arthur said on a rush of breath. 

“Do you really love me?” 

“Are you going to make me regret saying it?” 

“No,” Merlin said, a bit defensively. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t say it so you could take my virtue.” 

“I don’t think I _have_ taken your virtue.” 

“It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.” 

“Honestly, though, you’d give up your virtue to me even if I hadn’t said it.” 

Merlin’s brow furrowed but then he smiled widely. “You’re probably right about that. What are you doing tomorrow?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“So I can know what Uther will blame me for the day after tomorrow.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked sleepily. 

“It means I’m not letting you leave tomorrow. We have too much work to do.” 

“Work?” 

“We’re both pretty good at this, as we’ve already established, but we’ve still got a lot to figure out.” 

“Um, Merlin, I’m the prince. You can’t very well keep me in this room against my will.” 

Merlin cupped his balls and lightly squeezed. “Against your will?” 

“You play dirty.” 

“You like it when I play dirty.” 

Arthur brushed his thumb over Merlin’s lips then kissed him lightly. “Depends on what you’re playing for.” 

“You, Arthur. Always you.” 

“I know, but it’s still good to hear.” 

“Have I told you lately what a brat you are?” 

“Brat? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“A very royal brat.” 

“Princes can’t be brats.” 

“Prince Brat,” Merlin said amiably. 

“Merlin?” 

“Yes, sire?” 

Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s. “Shut up.” 

Merlin opened his mouth to protest and Arthur took advantage of that to deepen the kiss. Whatever Merlin was going to say was lost in muffled moans and the beginning of another slow burn.


End file.
